


setting fire to the blade

by flusteredkeith (the_silverdoe), the_silverdoe



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Blade of Marmora Keith, Fluff and Humor, Gen, M/M, One Shot Collection, Pining Shiro (Voltron), Pre-Kerberos Mission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-26
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2019-01-23 09:16:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12504060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_silverdoe/pseuds/flusteredkeith, https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_silverdoe/pseuds/the_silverdoe
Summary: a repository for all my short sheith drabbles (mostly based off tumblr prompts) <3highlights:1. Concept: real Shiro comes back to the team and sees Keith in his bom outfit and gets flustered.(new!) 3. Keith: *orders pineapple on his pizza* Shiro: I should hate you but somehow I just love you more?





	1. rediscovering my bearings

**Author's Note:**

> These will all be short unconnected drabbles based off Tumblr prompts and/or little things I feel like writing for Sheith. It will be a fic that keeps on fic-ing! :D

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [anime549 said](http://flusteredkeith.tumblr.com/post/166802260255/concept-real-shiro-comes-back-to-the-team-and): Concept: real Shiro comes back to the team and sees Keith in his bom outfit and gets flustered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the biggest fucking mood ever so i had to write it (especially because it involves pining shiro ;))

“Whoa, I’m getting a sense of deja vu here.”

Lance’s voice is the first thing Shiro hears when he steps into the bridge. Like usual, the team is gathered here and Lance is looking him up and down, appreciating — he’s not sure what. “Except this time, you’re definitely back to your old self.”

“What do you mean?” Shiro asks, looking around at the rest of them. Pidge and Hunk are nodding in agreement with Lance.

“Oh, I mean, your clothes and your hair, it’s—” Lance cuts off with a frown. Shiro raises an eyebrow.

“Never mind,” he says quickly with a wave of his hand. “The point is: you look great — better than ever.”

“Thanks,” Shiro replies, chuckling lightly. “I think it’s gonna take some time for me to get reacquainted with everything.”

“Take all the time you need, buddy, we’re all right here for you,” Hunk says with a smile.

“Well, actually, that depends,” Allura frowns. “We may still need a pilot for the Black Lion — and soon.”

Shiro’s brain does a double take at her statement. Something about it sounds weird.

“Wait,” Shiro says, looking around the room. “Where’s Keith?”

The last he saw of Keith, Keith was leaving his room after stopping by to check up on him yesterday. Too preoccupied with shaving and grooming up his hair, Shiro didn’t show up to breakfast and therefore hasn’t seen Keith since the night before.

Shiro upturns his lips, worry bubbling inside his chest. The fact that the rest of the team appear so blasé about it only makes it worse. All five of them exchange looks, Lance giving a casual shrug.

“Is he alright?” Shiro prompts them.

“I think he’s on a mission today,” Pidge says.

“A mission?”

“Yeah, we’ve got joint custody of Keith at the moment,” Lance explains. “Us and the Blade.”

“What do you—”

But before Shiro can finish asking his question, the door behind him hisses open. Tilting his head over his shoulder to see who had entered, Shiro turns around—

And feels his heart stop.

In walks Keith, his expression cool and nonchalant as ever as he looks around the room. It’s a sight Shiro’s well accustomed to by now, seeing that bored yet purposeful look in Keith’s eyes, and if that was all Keith had been wearing along with his usual cropped red jacket and black t-shirt, Shiro would’ve been just fine.

But everything  _ isn’t _ fine.

Instead, Shiro feels as though his lungs have collapsed in on themselves. He can hardly breathe. And really, someone ought to have given him a warning. There was nothing to prepare him for this — Keith stepping up to him, a dark hood pulled up over his head, his skin-tight purple suit stretching snugly across his chest, from head to toe, fitting nicely around his arms and his thighs and his—

Shiro gulps.

No. Everything isn’t fine. If Keith had just been in normal paladin gear, Shiro most definitely would not be feeling his cheeks heat up right now.

It should be illegal, Shiro thinks as he continues to stare, for  _ anyone _ to look this good in a Blade getup. The deep, violet shade suits Keith’s skin tone perfectly and the hood only enhances the way his dark hair falls gracefully into his face, tufts of his mullet curling in adorably around his neck...

Keith stops in front of him. Shiro tries to swallow. It doesn’t work.

“Good to see you up, Shiro,” he says with a smile. “How’re you feeling?”

Shiro opens his mouth with every intention to speak, only to find that his vocal cords seem to have seized up.

“I-I’m fine,” he manages to choke out. His shirt collar suddenly feels hot around his neck. “Better than ever.”

“Are you sure?” Keith frowns, brows furrowing in concern. Shiro’s stomach does backflips as Keith reaches up to place a hand over Shiro’s forehead. “You seem a little tense.”

“It’s just — you know,” Shiro breaks off, his voice cracking. “There’re still a lot of changes that I need to get accustomed to. Having been gone — quite a while.”

“Of course,” he nods in understanding. “Take your time, okay? I’m here if you need anything.”

His hand is still clamped over Shiro’s forehead. Shiro doesn’t want to move an inch.

“Yeah,” he croaks. “Definitely.”

Behind him, he hears Lance whisper to Hunk with a snicker, “I think I know what Shiro needs.”

Thankfully, Keith doesn’t seem to have heard.

“Well, anyway,” Keith says, finally pulling his hand away from Shiro’s forehead. “Just wanted to check up on you before I left for the mission. Glad to see you’re doing well.”

“I think our guy is doing more than just well,” Lance says cheerfully. “Just don’t be too long, mullethead.”

Keith merely raises an eyebrow at Lance before waving goodbye and walking out through the doors.

“So, joint custody with the Blade, huh?” Shiro asks quietly.

“Yee-up,” replies Lance with a smirk.

“This is fine,” Shiro says as he rubs the back of his neck.

This will be more than just fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what? what do you mean i was projecting onto shiro being flustered?
> 
> who am i kidding, keith can have me in that suit. i, too, dropped dead when i saw him in it for the first time


	2. something to look forward to

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [aescherie said](http://flusteredkeith.tumblr.com/post/163770525355/idk-if-youre-still-taking-prompts-but-i-once): IDK if you're still taking prompts but I once talked to a guy (and had no idea he was flirting w/ me) when I was walking to the bus after school. Weeks later I was going to the bathroom, felt someone was watching me, turned around and saw the same guy sitting at a computer watching me in a classroom, smiling to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> buckle up for some pre kerberos fluff!

Keith pokes at the overcooked carrots on his plate, his cheek leaning against his propped up arm. As excited as he had been for his first simulation practice earlier today, he now sits alone in the mess hall feeling thoroughly disappointed. After going through the experience, the whole ordeal had just… left something to be desired.

 _Easy_ , a voice echoes in the back of his mind. That’s what it was. It was too easy.

Keith isn’t sure what he’d expected but he definitely thought it would be a little more challenging. He had hoped that the illusion of flying through space would’ve at least given him something more, something that ignited a spark in the pit of his stomach and burned bright and hot until he  _came_   _alive_.

What did that feel like anyways?

“Hey, nice job on the sims,” a voice suddenly says above him. Keith looks up to see a tall man with a flop of black hair sweeping over his forehead. “You fly really well.”

“Uh, thanks,” Keith replies. He looks back down at his food. “I guess.”

Keith expects the stranger to leave; he’s probably just passing by to grab his lunch. Instead, when Keith realizes the guy hasn’t moved, he blinks up to see the older man smiling down at him.

“I’m sorry, I should introduce myself,” the guy amends. “I’m Shiro.”

He offers his right hand out. Keith eyes it suspiciously. If the last two months at the Garrison are anything to go by, it’s a little out of place that someone would take a genuine interest in being his friend.

“Okay, so maybe you’re not a handshake kind of guy,” Shiro chuckles. Keith is confused. Usually by now, anyone else would’ve given up and left. “But that’s okay. I already know who you are. Keith, right?”

“Yeah.”

Keith looks around at the room and notices that a few students have stopped to stare at their interaction. He has no idea what it means, nor does he care, but he wishes everyone would go back to minding their own business.

“It’s great to meet you,” Shiro returns with a grin. “It’s not everyday you meet someone with a talent like yours.”

“It’s not  _that_  spectacular,” Keith says, his nose crinkling. If he was going to be praised for being an ace pilot, he would prefer to have thoroughly earned it. “It’s not like it was the real deal. It wasn’t even hard.”

“It’s supposed to be for first years,” Shiro says. “Especially on one’s first time. So you’re fine.”

Keith shrugs. Shiro’s eyes widen suddenly and he splutters.

“I mean, you’re  _going to do_  fine — not  _you’re fine_ — I mean, not that you aren’t, but — well—”

Shiro takes a deep breath and exhales.

“You’re going to do great,” he finishes, smiling down at Keith.

“Um — thanks,” Keith mumbles, looking down at his plate again.  _That was weird._

“Well, anyways,” Shiro says with a small cough. “I’ll see you around, Keith.”

Keith watches him go. He’s not sure what it is but he feels the disappointment from his first sim begin to fade away as he gazes at Shiro’s retreating figure.

When Shiro grabs a tray from the end of the queue, it starts to dawn on Keith that maybe he’s been staring too long. Turning back to his plate, he pokes at his vegetables and resumes his meal, determinedly looking anywhere else but at his food.

Minutes later, once Keith has finished eating, he gets up from his seat to put away the dishes. After depositing his empty tray at the designated location, he turns his back on the mess hall and heads for the exit.

As he leaves, however, Keith begins to feel a prickling sensation crawling up his neck and freezes. He can’t shake the distinct feeling of being watched. Turning his head, he glances over his shoulder back at the dining tables.

It doesn’t take long for Keith to find the source of that hunch in the sea of heads. When his gaze falls upon Shiro, who had apparently been looking at him out of the corner of his eye, the older man faces him with a smile and waves a hand.

And then Keith feels it. The thing he had hoped to experience during his first sim: a spark igniting at the pit of his stomach, burning gently with a warm glow. Raising an arm, Keith waves back then promptly whips back around and makes a beeline for the exit.

Once Keith is out in the hallway, he slows his pace and smiles.

Perhaps there’s something worth looking forward to at the Garrison after all.


	3. a pizza my heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pining Shiro prompt from [anon](http://flusteredkeith.tumblr.com/post/168204729737/keith-orders-pineapple-on-his-pizza-shiro-i%20): Keith: *orders pineapple on his pizza* Shiro: I should hate you but somehow I just love you more?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't know just take this out of my hands
> 
> *disclaimer: no hate against pineapples on pizzas. i was just following the prompt *innocent look*

_It’s not a big deal,_ Shiro thinks to himself for the fiftieth time as he walks down the hallway towards Keith’s room.  _We’re just studying._

He’s in casual clothes, fresh out of the shower after working out at the gym, completely dressed down. No cologne, no hair products, nothing. Because really, there isn’t anything weird about it. Just two people about to go over some homework together. That’s all.

 _If by studying,_  Matt’s words from earlier comes back to him,  _you mean devising a thinly veiled excuse to spend more time with your favorite little cadet when in actuality you’ll probably just end up trying to get a few steps closer to sucking each other’s face off, then sure. Call it studying._

Panic seizes inside his chest at the memory of Matt’s teasing. The cold, metal walls of the Garrison seem to stretch for an eternity, a never ending carpet leading to the Gates of Shame.

 _But it_ is _just studying_ , Shiro frowns to himself. Sure, he had taken a liking to Keith, but everyone has someone they just  _click_  with. They’ve been behaving as casual friends — brotherly, even, — becoming sparring partners, discussing piloting tactics with each other, and occasionally teasing Matt — haven’t they? And as Keith is someone who doesn’t necessarily have a lot of friends, it’s completely natural for Shiro to feel like he wants to help, to want to look out for Keith… to want to know what it feels like to run his fingers through that black hai—

No, no — he’d have to work on controlling that particular platonic feeling.

At long last, he comes to a stop in front of Keith’s door. Shiro pauses, hesitant to knock.

Given their busy schedules, Shiro had skipped dinner for this. As Keith had known he’d be busy with classes and occupying himself in the training room, he had offered to order takeout for the both of them as a thank you to Shiro for helping him out, so Shiro figured he didn’t have to eat beforehand.

 _Yeah, that’s totally not a date,_  Matt’s voice echoes back in his mind.  _You might as well put away the books and select the cheesiest romance flick you have and cut the bullshit._

But it isn’t a fancy dinner or anything, Shiro tries to convince himself as he stares at the door knob, an uncomfortable knot twisting inside his stomach. And eating while studying is a completely normal past time that people in normal, platonic friendships often partake in, right?

It’s totally not a date.

Before he can second guess himself any further, Shiro takes a deep breath and knocks.

The scrape of a chair followed by wild scuffling erupts from within. Footsteps scramble loudly to the door. A few seconds later, the door opens a crack and Keith peeks out up at him.

“Oh, hey Shiro,” he says casually, as though no loud raucous has just occurred.  “Come in.”

He swings the door open and Shiro walks in. It’s the first time Shiro’s ever been in his room. At a quick glance, he sees that the bed has been hastily made, Keith’s red jacket hangs on a wall hook by the entrance, and the hem of a black shirt sticks out from underneath the door of the closet.

It’s sparse. Aside from schoolwork, a few books, and a laundry basket, there aren’t too many other personal belongings. His heart squeezes at the sight of it. It’s a little sad but it’s Keith – it’s so Keith. And he can appreciate it for that.

“Nice room,” Shiro offers.

“Thanks,” Keith replies, taking a seat in his desk chair. He gestures vaguely towards the bed, indicating that Shiro should sit there, so he does.

“I ordered pizza,” Keith says as he takes his own seat at the desk chair. “Hope that’s okay.”

“Pizza sounds great,” Shiro smiles. “I love pizza.”

_Totally not a date._

Keith nods and busies himself with flipping open his book. When the binding is flat on its back however, he pauses and turns his head to look at Shiro.

“Should we start now or wait to eat dinner first?”

“Probably a good idea to wait,” Shiro suggests, rubbing his stomach. “I’m starving.”

He pulls two small water bottles out of his pocket and hands one over to Keith. “Brought some from the dining hall.”

Keith takes it with another muttered _thanks_. Shiro is about to ask him how his day has been when a knock comes from the door.

“Pizza,” Keith says, jumping out of his seat. He dashes over to the door and unrolls a few bills from his pocket as he goes. Shiro waits patiently as he exchanges payment and goods with the delivery guy and walks back to the desk with a box of pizza in hand.

“Oh, good, they provided plates,” Shiro notes as Keith sets the pizza down on the table. His stomach grumbles as the smell of cheese and baked dough overwhelms him. He hasn’t eaten since noon and he can’t wait to dig in. He flashes Keith a warm smile as Keith hands him a plastic plate.

Excitement builds in his chest. Keith has his hands on both sides of the lid and is slowly tweaking it open. FInally, Keith drops his arms out of the line of his vision and —

Shiro’s face falls.

Across the beautiful and nearly flawless sea of mozzarella and tomato sauce, the worst offense that can possibly be wrought upon a pizza scatters itself all over the otherwise perfect surface.

Pineapples.

Shiro doesn’t understand. He thought he knew Keith. Keith, the ace pilot hotshot, the one who beat his sim score, the same exact Keith who’s pinned him down way more times than any of his other sparring partners has in the training room (and yet still not quite ever enough) — that Keith — likes pineapples on his pizza. Pineapples.  _Pineapples._

Pineapples.

Where did he go wrong?

“You okay?”

Keith’s voice jolts Shiro back into the cold, harsh reality before him. He wants to give Keith a betrayed look, one that says  _I thought I knew you, I trusted you_ , but he can’t bring himself to do it. Not when Keith is looking back at him with such an earnest and genuinely concerned expression.

“Is something wrong?” Keith frowns.

Oh, god. He has no idea.  _He has no idea._ Shiro can’t do this. He isn’t strong enough.

Mustering up the best smile he can offer, Shiro crinkles his eyes and grins up at the young cadet.

“No, nothing’s wrong,” he says, the corner of his lips widening.

When Keith’s frown deepens, Shiro becomes aware of how much teeth he’s probably showing and immediately tries to tone the smile down a little.

“Nothing’s wrong,” he repeats. “Everything’s great. Thanks for ordering pizza. I can’t wait to eat.”

“Oh,” Keith says, looking down at the pineapples. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Shiro nods. To make his words more convincing, he reaches down and grabs two slices to put on his plate. “I’m hungry. Let’s dig in.”

“Okay,” Keith says, looking relieved.

After filling his own plate, he comes around and sits next to Shiro on the bed. A swarm of butterflies erupts in Shiro’s stomach as their shoulders brush and Shiro… he just doesn’t understand.

He  _really_ doesn’t understand. Not only are the negative feelings he normally associates with people who choose the sorry way of pineapples completely nonexistent, but by some strange magic, by some bizarre stroke of witchcraft, seeing Keith open his small mouth to chomp down on three of the offending fruit sends a warm, tingly flutter shooting straight through his chest.

It’s incredible. He never thought it possible that he could ever develop romantic feelings for someone who felt this way about their pizza, and yet, here he is.

Matt was right. This boy is a danger to Shiro.

“Are you gonna eat?” Keith asks.

Shiro gulps. The moment of truth.

“You sure you’re okay?” Keith frowns, and he’s giving Shiro that look again. That worried, wide-eyed,  _I’ll tear to shreds whatever offends you if you just tell me what it is_  look.

Shiro takes a deep breath. “Yeah, sorry, just… zoned out a bit.”

Then, trying desperately not to breathe at all, Shiro lifts a slice of pizza up to his mouth and takes a bite.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompts are welcome on my [tumblr](http://flusteredkeith.tumblr.com/).


	4. spilt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon asked: “Shiro has definitely spilt coffee or tea all over himself because he was staring at Keith.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon asked: “Shiro has definitely spilt coffee or tea all over himself because he was staring at Keith.”
> 
> So this ended up being from Lance's POV with a bit of minor (one sided) Allurance. Thirsty, pining Shiro is a ho. I'm so sorry this is like half crack.

It’s been thirty minutes since Allura dragged Keith into her room. Whatever is going on in there, Lance is not having any of it.

_Dress up in fancy clothes_ they said, _it’ll impress the inhabitants of this planet_ they said. _Well screw the Altean traditions_ , Lance thinks. If he had known that refusing to dress up would get him into Allura’s room for this long, he’d have chosen to protest, too.

Already decked out in fancy Altean garb, Lance and the others currently sit in the dining hall of their castle, where Allura has invited the king of this planet for a pleasant meal. Upon their first transmission, they gathered enough data to infer that the king would absolutely look down on them if they did not show up wearing their Sunday best. In a last minute scramble, Coran had opened up his closet for the rest of them to pick out an outfit.

Afterwards, they had all met back down in the dining area for an afternoon of trying to win over the king. (And Allura had donned on the most gorgeous dress he had ever seen.) Keith, who had of course shown up in his usual unfashionable clothes with no intention to dress up, was silently scolded by Allura at once. With a polite tinkering laugh as she excused herself, she had dragged Keith back out with whispered mutterings of finding something more suitable for him to wear. Until then, the rest of the paladins are to be on their best behavior while Coran entertains their guest.

On the outside, Lance has a smile plastered on, but internally he’s fuming. If only he had dared to show up in his common clothing as well — but no. Instead, for the past twenty minutes, he’s had to listen to Coran jabbering on and on about some wild excursion King Alfor and him had once experienced in the jungle. He knows they’re supposed to be trying to win this planet over for a newfound alliance but Lance can hardly pay attention to a word everyone else is saying. Instead, he keeps checking the time ticker in his pocket.

Another five minutes has gone by.

_Seriously, what the fuck is going on with them?_

Out of the corner of his eye, Shiro shoots him a subtle dirty look from next to him, causing Lance to realize he might have just audibly scoffed out loud.

_Whoops._

Clearing his throat to belatedly pass it off a minor cough, Lance forces himself to take the cup before him in what he hopes is a convincing show of his engagement with the group. Raising it to his lips, he takes a sip of whatever liquid this alien planet has decided to offer them. It’s hot but smooth, with a hint of something like roses, and to his surprise, Lance finds that it actually tastes quite good.

With a grin, he looks across the table at Hunk, who smiles sheepishly back, and he knows they’re both thinking the same thing.

_So much better than Nunvil._

Coran’s story drags on and on, punctured by occasional quips and laughs from the king. It takes everything in Lance not to bust out the big yawn itching at his jaws so he looks to his teammates for a distraction. Pidge’s gaze, while glued to the king, is clouded and unfocused. Hunk, meanwhile, is piling more hors d'oeuvres onto his plate. Only Shiro alone seems to be attentive; he alone continues to nod along with great interest.

When Coran and the king break out into fits of laughter over a joke Coran tells, Lance takes another peek at his ticker.

_Another_ five minutes has passed and still Keith and Allura are nowhere to be seen.

Just as he is about to lose all control and bang his fists on the table and demand where they are, the door to his left slides open.

In walks Allura and Keith — _finally_ — both fully decked out in formal Altean wear. Lance has to stifle a snicker. Keith looks both defeated and annoyed, less confident than usual, clearly unsure of himself in such foreign clothing.

“Ah, you’re back,” Coran says, turning to face them with a wide grin.

“We are sorry for our absence,” Allura says kindly with a bow of her head. “Everything is now in order, and—”

She clears her throat and elbows Keith in the ribs.

Looking as though every word would cost him a great effort, Keith takes a deep breath and speaks.

“I sincerely apologize for my drab attire earlier. It was completely inappropriate and we are—” he breaks off with a sideways glance at Allura. “— _I_ am… so sorry you had to see that.”

Lance crosses his arms and flashes a smug smile. Justice is served. He looks around, expecting to share a humorous reaction with the others, when he notices something that strikes him as odd — very odd.

“Uh, Shiro?” he raises an eyebrow at the man next to him.

Shiro, who Lance had been expecting to merely chuckle lightly at this new and hilarious sight of Keith in Altean robes, has instead been staring — nay, — _gaping_ , with his jaw open and his teacup raised mid-drink, as though he has never seen anything more beautiful in his life. An even with Lance’s prompting, Shiro doesn’t turn to face him when he replies.

“Yeah?” Shiro mutters under his breath. His eyes stay trained on Keith as Mullet Head walks stiffly around the table to take the last unclaimed seat, head bowed low, undoubtedly to hide his scowl.

“Uh, you okay, buddy?” Lance whispers as Coran resumes his story.

“Yeah,” Shiro responds vaguely, his gaze still on Keith. Out of all the bizarre things Lance has seen out here in space, this definitely tops all of them. In his inattentiveness, Shiro has been slowly tipping the cup closer to his mouth, but without any clear intent of catching it.

“Are you sure?” Lance asks, still trying to figure out what in the world is going on. “You’re about to — Shiro, you’re — you’re spilling. Shiro, you’re spilling.”

Steam starts to unfurl out of Shiro’s lap as liquid dribbles down his front. With a loud yelp, Shiro jumps up from the burning shock of something hot spilling all over his legs and tosses the cup down on the table where it lands with a resounding _clink!_

Lance blinks up at him. Shiro face is glowing bright red as he quickly grabs a napkin to pat down the mess on his robes.

“Shiro, what’s wrong?” Allura asks, eyebrows furrowed in concern. Lance looks to Coran, who had abruptly stopped talking mid-sentence, and smiles widely at him. Anything to try and bring things back to a plane of reality he can understand.

“Nothing to see here,” Lance says, waving his hand casually. “He just spilled his drink, that’s all.”

“Aww no!” Coran frowns, looking utterly crestfallen. “That was my favorite suit, too.”

Lance knows he will go on to hate himself for saying what he’s about to say next but he also knows it’s probably the only option to prevent any more strange mishaps from playing out here in front of the king. Remove all common factors.

“Don’t worry, Keith will use his newfound sense of fashion to help him get changed,” he blurts out. “It’s all under control.”

Shiro turns, if possible, even redder at this. _Hey, you dug your own grave,_ Lance wants to tell him. _Now you have to lie in it._

“Keith?” Allura asks blankly. “He barely knows the difference between—”

“It’s fine,” comes Keith voice on the far side of the table. Everyone looks over at him as he gets up from his seat. “I can handle it.”

“Keith,” Allura intones, voice dripping with skepticism. “Are you quite sure you—”

_“Just let him handle it,”_ Lance pleads.

Without further ado, Keith makes his way back towards the door with Shiro following slowly behind, leaving a great distance between them, probably on purpose. Lance has to resist a strong urge to roll his eyes.

_Dress up in fancy clothes_ they said, _it’ll impress them_ they said.

Once the door slides shut behind Shiro, Lance gives the confused king a casual shrug of his shoulders.

“Humans, am I right?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so sorry

**Author's Note:**

> come say hello to me on [tumblr](https://flusteredkeith/tumblr.com) and/or [twitter](https://twitter.com/flusteredkeith)!


End file.
